


Papa Don't Preach

by Arabwel



Series: Papa Don't Preach [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Because werewolves, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Due to the sex pollen not because anyone is creepy, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Implied Relationships, Knotting, Marking, No Underage Sex, Outdoor Sex, Peter is not a creeper, Sex Pollen, Uncircumcised Penis, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top, and he's a werewolf, but both parties are into it, except there is an implant, just snarky and inappropriate, of a sort, so it's not unsafe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:46:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9423092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/pseuds/Arabwel
Summary: Why hasn’t she looked at him before? He looksgood, for an older guy. All that muscle he’s baring as he struggles out of his shirt, sharp blue eyes and a jawline that was just made to be sat on.“There’s a stream in the cave,” Peter is saying, gritting his teeth. “If we can wash it off -”Really she should have done this a long time ago. He’s a werewolf, she’s a werewolf hunter.Shepounces.****Or, Peter and Allison walk into a sex pollen trap, snarky sex ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (way belated) trope day of Peter Hale Ship Week! Than you so much for everyone who made this fic happen. Title is from the Madonna song of that name 
> 
> Re: Dub con, both parties are affected by the sex pollen. This is *not* a Peter-is-a-creepy-predator story. If there is anything else you'd like to know before reading just ask, and same with if you think something should be tagged.

“Remind me again why are you here?”

Allison rolls her eyes at the exasperated tone. “Because there will be mountain ash and unless you want to just stand there mournfully like a puppy at a pet store window scratching at the glass, you need a human.” 

“And it has to be _you_?” Peter is no puppy, he’s a fully grown werewolf but when he’s whining like this, drudging through the woods ahead of him he sounds about Liam’s age. 

Maybe. 

“Well, if you can come up with anyone else who can keep up with you in this terrain…” Allison’s words trail off as she eyes the path up ahead; there’s more rocks to climb and it looks like she may have to trust Peter to catch her on the other side. Fuck.

“I could always kidnap a real gymnast,” Peter mutters just loud enough for her to hear before he leaps up on the rocks, claws digging into the cliff face for better traction. From this angle, his ass looks amazing. 

Allison blinks and shakes her head. That’s not something she’s ever thought about Peter - he’s old enough to be her _dad_ , and sometimes the way the wolf looks at her father makes her wonder if her mother is facepalming in her grave. There’s _nothing_ attractive about Peter Hale, not even now that he’s someone they know they can trust to a certain degree. 

“Well?” Peter peers down on her and beckons. “My sister’s little treasure hunt won’t wait all day.”

She bites back a curse and hefts her way up the cliffside; it’s only about twelve feet and she scrambles up quickly, accepting the hand Peter is holding out to haul her up over the ledge. 

Because of course Talia Hale would hide the _real_ Triskele charm, in pieces, all over the preserve, and because they _really_ need it, they’ve had to split up leading to the fact that Allison is watching Peter Hale’s ass as they head towards the cave where one of the pieces is supposed to wait. 

Allison bites her lip as Peter stretches up to grasp a ledge and swing up; his muscles bulge under the tight v-neck, the fabric riding up and baring the skin above his designer jeans. The only concession he’s made towards hiking in the woods is swapping his dress shoes for a pair of boots that wouldn’t look out of place in her father’s closet. 

“How much further out is it?” she asks as she follows him, glancing at the sky. They have plenty of daylight left, at least. 

Peter shrugs. “Not that much further. Maybe five, ten minutes.” he eyes her critically. “Maybe less, you’re not completely useless out here.”

Allison fights back a flush at his words; it’s not fair how he is so unbothered by the woods. He looks like he just walked out of a photoshoot or something while she feels hot and itchy, sweat beading at the back of her neck even though it’s not that warm. 

Neither one of them speaks as Peter leads the way, over more boulders and through overgrown thicket that his claws tear through with some difficulty. After that he’s not looking too pristine either, the v-neck torn at the collar exposing more of his thick neck, almost down to a nipple. 

The expected cave is just beyond the thicket; Peter’s nostrils flare and he tilts his head. “This - this is it.” 

“Doesn’t look like much,” Allison observes critically.

The cave mouth is narrow, but if Peter is right it will widen again into a small cavern; a hidey-hole far from the old Hale house and it hits her how much Peter must trust them now to show this to her, show this to a _hunter_. Unless, of course, he plans on trying to kill here here, far away from everything and everyone. 

Peter snorts. “Knowing Talia, the unassuming facade is just that. I am sure she’s left something here… I was surprised there were no deterrents on the path, beyond broken rocks and goat… weed…” 

He trails off and Allison frowns. “What’s wrong?” Peter suddenly looks flushed, eyes flicking up and down the thicket with a look of concern on his face. 

“I don’t know -” Peter seems uncertain; it’s a good look on him and she wants to kiss it off his face. 

Wait, kiss?

Allison starts, and in that moment she realizes her heart rate has not gone down after the climb; her blood is rushing through her veins, throbbing under her skin and making the pit of her belly hot and heavy. She’s not just sweaty, she’s _wet_ , her sensible microfiber panties soaking with arousal as she watches Peter with newfound hunger.

Why hasn’t she looked at him before? He looks _good_ , for an older guy. All that muscle he’s baring as he struggles out of his shirt, sharp blue eyes and a jawline that was just made to be sat on. 

“There’s a stream in the cave,” Peter is saying, gritting his teeth. “If we can wash it off -” 

Really she should have done this a long time ago. He’s a werewolf, she’s a werewolf hunter. 

She _pounces_. 

Peter might have a couple of inches and thirty pounds of muscle on her but she’s trained for this all her life. He goes down under her, air escaping from his lungs in a loud _oof_ as she pins him down and straddles him.

“You don’t want to be doing this,” he warns her but she can feel him grow hard under her, can feel a delicious bulge under the designer denim. 

“Yes I do,” she tells him and leans forward to run her tongue over his chest. He tastes like salt and forest, different from the other boys - other wolves - she’s been with, but Peter isn’t a boy, Peter is a man. 

He groans when she grinds her hips down to ease the throbbing ache between her legs. “Dammit, Argent, you keep this up and I’ll -”

“You’ll what?” Allison looks up at him,fluttering her eyes in a way she knows drives guys wild. 

“It’s not natural, you don’t want to - you don’t want to fuck me, you don’t want to do this-” his words trail off in a hiss as she grinds her hips down again. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted this,” She tells him, pressing her hand against his neck, to his pulse point. “You’d be lying.”

“You think I want this?” he asks her and his heartbeat is fast, hard, but steady. “That I want to fuck you?”

“Do you?”

Peter closes his eyes and shudders, bone-deep, the movement sending vibrations all through Allison’s body that only stoke her fire higher. She knows if he really didn’t want this he’d push her away, use his wolf strength to get away from her. 

“Argent,” Peter groans and his eyes roll back in his head, “is going to _kill_ me.”

“What Daddy doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” 

And Allison _knows_ there’s something in the air, something in the earth that’s clouding her judgement, that’s pushing her body to the kind of arousal where she’s grinding down on _Peter_ fucking _Hale_. But she also knows she hasn’t been with anyone since she got out of the hospital, hasn’t even _kissed_ someone in almost a year now. Something she intends to rectify right now. 

She leans in to kiss him, tongue delving into his mouth as he parts his lips eagerly. 

“Kill me,” Peter murmurs into the kiss with barely a sliver of blue left in his eyes and then he’s kissing her back, hands coming up to clutch her hips and pull her down. 

Peter knows how to kiss; even though she’s on top he’s the one devouring her mouth, showing no hesitation, no remorse as he takes what he wants without being overbearing; Allison moans into his mouth as his hand grips her ass, fingertips sliding over where the skin is sensitive at her upper thigh even through her jeans. 

“Get out of these,” he growls into her mouth, tugging at a a belt loop, “Or I’ll rip them off and I don’t think you want to hike back without pants, Princess.” 

Allison groans, the familiar nickname feeling wrong even as his voice sends another bolt of heat through her. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps even as she moves to obey because she doesn’t want to hike back with ripped jeans, and because she wants _more_. 

“What, only _Daddy_ is allowed to call you that?” Peter smirks and heat flares inside Allison, anger coloring her cheeks as she lifts up on her knees above him, fingers clenching into the fabric of her jeans to keep from doing something - 

“Go on,” Peter’s voice is like molten honey. “Shut me up. I know you want to.” 

Allison snarls as she slaps him, the echo of flesh on flesh echoing around them. For a moment, there's a red handprint on his face but it starts fading away, even as his hips twitch up and he moans deep in his throat. 

“I’ll shut you up,” she says and she’s kind of horrified at how cliche it sounds, like bad porn dialogue even as she unbuttons her jeans and starts to shimmy out of them, swearing sharply as they catch on her boots. 

Jeans still hanging around one ankle she scoots forward, hard ground biting into her knees as she moves to straddle Peter’s face, to press her aching pussy against his mouth through the thin fabric of her panties. “Watch the fangs.” 

The sound Peter makes is more animal than man and then his hands are on her ass again, tearing that last barrier away as his tongue swipes into her. 

Allison swears and clutches his hair hard enough she knows it has to hurt but she doesn’t care; his mouth is like pure sin, too hot to be anything but a wolf -and oh god she can never go back to humans, not after Scott, not after this. She doesn’t know if it’s the foreign heat coursing through her blood or the way Peter is unerringly zeroing on her sweet spots, his nose pressed against her clit as his tongue delves in deep but her highs start to tremble and she’s getting closer to coming faster than she ever has from a guy eating her out. 

Peter does _something_ and Allison comes hard, an involuntary noise of pleasure escaping her lips as she rides it out, rocks herself against his face as much as his hold of her ass lets her. 

She lifts up and looks down on him; Peter’s eyes look glazed, his lips red and soft, his face slick with her come. Lust surges inside her again despite the fact that she’s still sensitive, that she’s feeling the burn of his artful stubble on her flesh. 

Before she can protest, before her thighs stop trembling he yanks her back down groaning hungrily as he laps at her cunt. It’s so good and she knows she will come again, will have another orgasm as she rides his face. 

Allison bites her lip to not to scream when her body clenches around his tongue, convulsing with pleasure. 

But it’s not _enough._

He whines, he honest to go whines when she digs her thumbs into the tendons of his wrists, forces his grip on her ass to loosen so she can lift up and scramble back. She’ll have finger-shaped bruises for sure, and for a moment she feels irrationally jealous she can’t mark him in return; that he’ll be able to wash her slick off his face, that the redness will fade before her eyes. 

“I want more,” she tells him, voice coming as a thready pant as lust twists inside her belly. She never comes again this fast, is usually wiped after coming but it’s like fucking his mouth only wetted her appetite. 

“You want my cock,” his voice is hoarse, his tone at odds with his devilish smirk. “You want to get _fucked_ , Princess.” 

“Don’t call me that,” she hisses, fighting down a bolt of arousal his words send through her spine. 

“Whatever you say, _Ally_.” 

Allison growls, surprising herself with the sound even as she reaches blindly behind her, to where his cock is hard under his jeans. The lightest brush of her fingers over the straining denim has him hissing, his hips arching off the cold ground towards her hand. 

“Behave,” she tells him as she pops open a button. 

“Never,” and his smirk is almost playful as his hands return to her hips, thumbs stroking along the tops of her thighs in a way that is surprisingly sensuous.

“Oops,” Allison smirks as one of the buttons comes loose, pings off the rocks as she works his flies open to get to his cock. She can’t see from this angle, duh, but the bulge she’d felt earlier had been nice and _fuck_ , he’s so thick in her hand when she finally gets hold of him it makes her cunt clench in anticipation. 

Peter looks _wrecked_ , sweat beading on his forehead as his hips hitch up, his cock sliding into her grip as he bites back a groan. His eyes are flickering into supernatural blue, and it should be a shock to her system, should remind her that he’s a killer, a _murderer_ but the thrumming in her blood is too strong to ignore. She wants it, wants _him_ , wants to feel his cock deep inside her. 

“What are you waiting for?” Peter’s voice is rough, and for a moment Allison wonders if she spoke out loud or if he is as impatient as she is. 

“Patience,” she tells him through clenched teeth even as she rubs her hand over his cock, tests it for length as well as girth; bent like this, her shoulder is starting to ache but she can’t look away from his face, from how wide his eyes are and how wet his mouth still is with her come.

“Going to return the favor?” His eyes zero on her lips and for a moment her mouth waters at the thought; she could just flip herself around, grind herself on his face even as she let his cock slide between her lips and _took._

Allison shakes her head; she doesn’t want to blow Peter Hale, she wants to be rid of the ache at the pit of her belly, the fire that’s tingling along her skin and demanding she get off, gets _fucked_ , far more than just pent-up frustration at work. 

He whines like a kicked puppy when she lets go of his cock; it turns into a deep, wrecked moan when she slowly shimmies down his body, heedless of the dirt biting her knees. She bites her lip to not to make a similar sound when his cock brushes against her ass and deliberately lifts up so that it only brushes against her folds as she moves further down. 

Peter’s hands fall of her thighs and his claws come out, biting at the cold hard ground. He stares at her with bright, hungry eyes, barely a ring of supernatural blue showing past the lust-blown pupils. 

Allison licks her lips as she takes hold of his dick; from this angle she can really appreciate it, the heft, the thickness, the fact that he’s more than a handful without being too much. She flicks her thumb over the foreskin, fascinated by the way it moves over the slick head and draws another growl from him as a bead of precome clings to her thumb. 

Her eyes don’t leave his as she lifts her hand to his mouth; he licks his own taste from her fingers, fangs brushing against the tip of her thumb. When she pulls her hand back and lifts it to her mouth, tastes the barest hint of bitter salt, he growls. 

“Get on with it,” he grits our through clenched jaw. “Or I am going to throw you down and mount you like a bitch in heat.” 

The words should not make her gut clench, should not make arousal flare high and deep inside her at the thought of being bent over and taken from behind, of being mounted like an animal. She reacts instantly, slapping him across the face with an audible crack. 

Peter inhales sharply and his eyes flash; he licks blood from his lips but his erection hasn’t flagged; if anything, there’s another bead of liquid pooling at the tip and Allison’s jaw aches with the urge to taste. But she’s not letting him get any control of this situation. 

“What’s the matter, Princess?” Peter smirks, blood on his teeth “Worried what Daddy will say? Or that you won’t know what to do with a man after all those pups you’ve been with?” 

It’s the memory of being with Scott, with Isaac that has her stifling a moan, another flood of arousal pulsing through her. She can feel it dripping down her thighs, knows he must smell how wet she is, how much she wants this, how much she _needs_ this. 

“Shut up,” she hisses through clenched teeth but there’s no real venom it, not when her hand is curling around his cock. She knows he can’t pass anything on to her, not with his werewolf healing, and she’s had an implant since she was fifteen. There’s nothing keeping her from raising up on trembling thighs and positioning him at her entrance, the slick head of his cock nestling between her folds so easily. 

The noise Peter makes is more wolf than man, a high-pitched whine that turns into a please when she tilts her hips, lets just the tip of his cock press inside her. She has to fight the urge to just slam down, to just _take_ , unwilling to give him that satisfaction even as her need threatens to consume her. Some part of her that is still rational is conscious of how he’s thicker than anyone she’s been with, how deliciously he will stretch her but she’d have to take it slow. 

She doesn’t want it slow. 

They both groan when she sinks down on him, bracing her hands on his bare chest, nails biting his flesh. Even though she’s soaking wet, even though she’s come twice already, it still burns as he cleaves into her, filling her to the brim. 

“Feel good, Princess?” Peter pants as she leans forward, his hands coming up to grasp her hips, to pull her closer; Allison moans as he slides deeper, almost impossibly so, another flash of desire racking her body. “Love the way my cock fills your tight little cunt?” 

“Shut up,” she groans even as she starts to move her hips, chasing her pleasure. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ to come before I do.” 

He laughs. “You’re thinking of your pups again, Princess,” and that name that only her Daddy uses has no business rasping along her nerves like velvet when someone else says it, when it’s _Peter_ who’s mocking her even as his hips buck up and draw an aborted cry from her.

When he moves his hand from her hip to her mound it feels like he’s trailing fire over her skin, even though it’s just fingertips, no claws, nothing but the familiar warm touch of a werewolf. He toys with the dark, soaked curls for what feels like an eternity and Allison isn’t going to take it, she rakes his chest with her nails even as she moves to grasp his wrist, to push his hand down where she needs it the most.

Peter is as good with his hands as he is with his mouth; within minutes Allison is trembling, the heat coalescing in the pit of her belly crashing through her. He doesn’t relent, he keeps rubbing his thumb over her sensitive clit, keeps pressing just a little to the side in a way that has her moaning, the aftershocks cascading into another small, sharp orgasm.

“That’s it, Princess,” Peter practically crows, breath coming in short pants. “Take it, take what you need-” His words trail off into a groan as she clenches around him, as she throws her head back and rocks her hips down to have his cock hit her just so. “Fuck, come on Allly, want you to come on me, want you to come riding my knot, wanna fill you up -” 

“Shut… up!” Allison cries out as she races towards another orgasm; the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing around them as she quickens her pace, the way his cock slides in and out of her so good, stoking the heat building up inside her. She comes with a deep, guttural moan, her thighs going lax as she slumps over Peter, like a marionette with cut strings. 

“My turn,” Peter growls and before she can react he’s flipping them over. 

She barely avoids hitting her head on the ground, breath escaping her lungs as she’s pinned under Peter’s bulk. The wolf stares down at her hungrily, strong arms bracketing her body and she’s startled by the realization that he’s still buried deep inside her, the flex of his hips drawing an involuntary moan from her lips. 

She’s even more startled when he bends down to kiss her, to devour her mouth like he did before; she can taste herself in the kiss, can taste a hint of blood and without thinking her hands come up to clutch at his hair, to wrap around his neck as he starts to move. 

Peter growls into the kiss and grabs hold of her thigh, yanks her leg up to go around his waist and Allison _wails_ with how good it feels when he goes deeper, the angle hitting her just so. 

He smirks and she wants to wipe that smirk off his face but before she can react he’s kissing her again, nipping at her jaw, trailing a path down her sensitive neck. It’s sharp, almost painful, a counterpoint to his thrusts and Allison throws her head back and lets him, lets him mark her up like she’s never let anyone mark her before. 

Peter’s hips stutter and she’s so close, she wants to come before he does; her hips buck up and then his hand is between their bodies, thumb flicking against her clit and it’s almost, almost -

Allison arches against him as she comes, crying out something that’s _not_ his name; her body trembles and convulses as the pleasure washes over him, as Peter _roars_ and thrusts into her once, twice before she feels him flexing inside her, feels his seed flood into her. 

She tries to catch her breath as she shivers in the aftermath, aftershocks still going through her; she can feel him inside her still, hard and pulsing, not softening at all; she’s so sensitive it feels like he’s growing, like he’s swelling up inside her - 

Allison’s eyes fly open and she stares at Peter, he’s disheveled--no, _wrecked_ \--leaves in his hair and blood on his chin but he looks as smug as she’s ever seen him as she fights back a moan when his _knot_ expands inside her; there’s another pulse of hot warmth and Peter groans, hips bucking forward. She thought it was a myth, a joke, but it’s _real_ , and she’s so full and stretched it feels like she’d come just from a whisper. 

“You - “ 

“Told you,” he smirks, “Wanted you to come on my knot.” 

Allison groans and closes her eyes; the alien lust that was coursing through her scant minutes ago is gone, as if someone had flipped a switch - she’s pretty sure it was the part where he came inside her, stupid misogynistic magic. 

Well, almost gone. Because this, because being _knotted_ has her blood running hot in anticipation. 

She opens her eyes again and flutters her eyelashes. “No you didn’t.” 

Peter lets out a noise when she flips them over, groaning when his knot tugs at her oversensitive walls. She pins his wrists to the ground and smirks down on him. 

“You told me you wanted me to come _riding_ your knot.” 

The look of terrified arousal on Peter’s face is one she’s going to treasure _forever_.


End file.
